Unnatural Selection
by Eimii
Summary: (Prologue/Teaser) Sometimes closing a door reveals a window on the world that you hadn't even realized was there... (A/U - rating for crude language, so be warned)


Standard Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Final Fantasy VII characters, and i claim no legal rights to reproduction, so please don't sue me ^_^;. This is sort of a combination prologue/teaser, as well as a concept test, to see if anyone might be intersted in a fic like this. If you're intrigued, or curious, or utterly repulsed or whatever, i'd really appreciate hearing any thoughts you might have on it, especially since this is my first FFVII fic! Thanks for reading!

~Eimii

"Damn Spike, think ya could bleed a bit more? Ya missed a spot over here."

"I doubt he can hear you."

"No shit, ya think...? Fuck, it's gone straight through his spine; looks like he had one after all, though I guess it ain't doin' him much good now. The bloody mako's gotta be the only thing keepin' him alive."

"No, Strife is alive because I haven't given him permission to die yet. Call Hojo, he may still be salvageable."

"You're a fuckin' class-A prick, ya know that? Shiiit... shouldn't we Stop him or somethin'?"

"If he starts to fade, burn some phoenix down under his nose. I want him breathing when we bring him in. I spent too much time training you ladies to let Hojo declare him DOA and keep him."

"Huh. I take it back, boss; yer all heart... Y'see his hands anywhere?"

"Probably those puddles of mako over there."

"They fuckin' _melted!?_"

"Mako-enhanced creatures tend to turn rather than rot. If you'd done your research you'd know that."

"Rude usually handles that crap. Well damn... And here I was gonna put ya in my will, too. Was gonna leave ya my dick, so you and Hojo could fuckin' sit on it and spin when _I_ die."

"Talk to Hojo. I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Yeah, right. What about Soldier boy here? We gonna let him go ta the big snot-bucket in the sky?"

"Stop him. Maybe a sacrificial lamb will help keep the good doctor honest."

"Poor bastard... but better him than you, eh Spike? **_STOP!_** Nighty ni-"

U N N A T U R A L · S E L E C T I O N

A Final Fantasy VII Alternate Universe Fanfiction

"Sir? Are you alright in there, sir?"

It was the muffled pounding on the door that finally woke him from his fitful slumber. The man on the other side sounded quite urgent, he thought. After this stunning revelation, the next notion crossed his mind was that the taste in his mouth was even more vile that it usually was when he woke up and couldn't remember where he was. It was like something diseased decided to curl up and die on his tongue.

Cracking one eye, he spat vainly in the basin below. _Oh yeah, the sedative wore off._ At least he'd remembered to flush this time. Talk about unpleasant things to wake up to... Wiping his mouth with the back of one gloved hand, he unsteadily tried to get to his feet. The fact that the stall was as narrow as a coffin helped a bit, and reminded him of where he was. Only one place had bathrooms this small.

"Sir?"

"...What?" he coughed hoarsely, his throat still raw.

"Ah- we've arrived at Midgar Airbase, sir. All of the soldiers have already disembarked. Do you need any-"

"I'll be out in a minute," he barked, cutting the private off, though secretly the man's words were the first ray of sunshine he'd had since the trip began. Releasing the walls, he discovered that the plane was indeed still. _Finally..._ No more mind and reflex-numbing sedatives, no more puking himself unconscious in the head. It would be good to feel almost human again.

A quick inspection revealed his suit to be thankfully none the worse for wear after a night on the floor of an airplane bathroom. It was tailored tougher than that, he supposed. The shirt he'd been wearing for the last three days could definitely stand to be changed, though, but buttoning up his coat would cover up most of the wrinkles until he could find a hotel. After straightening his tie, he deemed him clothes presentable. _Good enough for government work, anyhow..._

From the neck up, however, it was as different story. His face was still pasty white, and he was in definite need of a shave. Moreover, his thick golden mane hung in lank, sweaty disarray, shadowing his eyes and making him look even more like an overdressed bum. That wouldn't do at all. 

Shaving would have to come later. Stripping off his gloves, he soaked his hair in the sink until it lay flat, then wrung it out. He didn't have a towel handy, so he just shook it dry; the water beaded and rolled off the synthetic fabric of his coat, as it repelled water apparently as well as it did blood. Combing his hair back yielded something serviceable, but far from his preferred style. 

It also revealed the dark bags under his eyes, which transformed those softly glowing orbs into twin pits of blue fire sunken deep into his skull. The small oval lenses of his sunglasses didn't hide the rings, but at least he looked less dead than he felt when with them on. And he still looked sharper than some of his comrades did on their best days, he mused with a wry smirk.

As he smoothed his lapels in the mirror the backs of his hands glinted in the harsh white light, shining chromatically. A frown crossed the blond man's face, as the fever dream he'd been having while he lay slumped upon the porcelain throne flashed before his mind's eye. He quashed it violently, tugging the black leather gloves back on.

It was just nonsense, after all; he'd been unconscious when they found him, and all of the records said that he was the sole survivor of that massacre. Slamming the door open with the force of his irritation, he suddenly found himself dancing to retain his balance as his weapon fairly leapt into his arms.

"About god-damn _time_," the redhead said, as he lowered his arm from the toss. "Jeez, Spike, ya still spend more time preenin' than a fuckin' cat. What, did'ja get a crick in yer neck while ya were lickin' yer bunghole."

"I love you too, Red." Elbowing past the thin man, the blonde strapped on his sword and retrieved his navy blue trench coat from where it lay across the back of the last bench in the empty troop transport. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The boss wants to see ya right away," his escort replied with a shit-eating grin. "Guess who gets ta be Hojo's new personal errand boy, meat shield, and back-door bitch?"

"What?! Bullshit!"

"Heh, welcome ta Hell, Strife, otherwise known as Midgar, where ShinRa fucks _everyone_ blind, and then they come back fer more. Hope ya enjoyed yer vacation."

"Your presence makes it all worthwhile, Reno. I don't know how I managed to survive without seeing your smiling face every day."

"It better've been by wakin' up next ta a different piece of sweet Wutaian ass every fuckin' morning or I'm gonna cut yer shriveled little nuts off, Strife. But the nasty details can wait until Rude's here. Fer now, the bossman awaits..."

"Wonderful..."  



End file.
